Spanish Moss
by Setaflow
Summary: After receiving a mysterious message claiming to be from an ally, Nereida sails from her native Havana in the hopes that this man will lead her to her missing father. Along the way, she experiences thrills, dangers, and the fear that whatever is in store for her in the wild West Indies is not what she ever hoped to see. (May contain spoilers for ACIV)


**Hello everyone! **

**If you couldn't tell, I've gotten ACIV (I'm still only on the sixth sequence), and I had a plan to make an ACIV fanfic. After seeing Havana for the first time, I decided to give it a shot with a plot that I hope isn't too cliche and a character that I hope isn't too Mary-Sue-ish.**

**As always, reviews are appreciated. **

**I don't own anything in Assassin's Creed, but I do own Nereida, Vasco, and the family.**

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I guess you could say that my life started with the ocean.

You see, my mama and my father met on the same merchant ship, sailing for Havana before I was born. She was sailing from her native Spain, and my father from the Spanish colonies. They met, exchanged pleasantries, and went about their ways. They still saw each other wherever they went; Havana is not a very large place, after all. They would sit in the local taverns at night, sipping rum and chatting softly as sailors and dancers alike shuffled around them. When my mama discovered that she was with child, my father agreed to settle down with her and start a family.

After my birth, I was named Nereida, after the boat that carried the both of them. My mama said that the name meant "sea nymph" in Spanish, and I guess it suited me. I have always been on the petite side and I've always had a soft spot for the ocean.

When I was a young girl, my mama became a tailor, making various clothing articles for her neighbors, and soon for the Spanish soldiers that roamed the streets. Her work was decent, but not good enough that we could get by on that alone. And so, my mama taught me how to weave and sew and thread as she did in the hopes that we could make more reales to pass. As I got older, the demand for income became too great, and my father had to turn to more drastic measures.

My father's ambitions were always too big for his eyes. He dreamed of being a great merchant sailor, and sailing the Caribbean with a fleet so fierce that not even the great plunderers would dare to cross him. But alas, his dreams only got as far as the shallow tide pools he would take me to play in as a little girl.

Seeing that my mama and I needed to be supported, he saw his chance.

When I was seven, my father volunteered for a job sailing to his homeland of Florida. The pay was meager, but it was given up front, and the next thing I knew, I was standing at the edge of the dock, waving goodbye as my mama ran to catch up with me. I could still picture the bright smile on his face as he hung and waved from the ratlines of the brig. I laughed a naïve, childish laugh, knowing that my father would be back in but a few months.

It's been twelve years and I still haven't seen my father.

No correspondence. No letters. Nothing.

At first, my mama let herself go, it seemed. She became…distant. Unfocused. And her work suffered because of it. I had to pull together our business for a few months until she suddenly became alive again. Once my mama had picked up her needle, her work became better, more colorful. The sharp rise in her quality did not go unnoticed either; soon, half the noblemen in Havana wanted to pay for her patterns.

At first, I didn't know what had caused my mama to work with such vigor. Until, however, she brought back Custo.

Custo was a soldier that my mama had met in a tavern. They had been seeing each other for God knows how long, and it was because of him that my mama became inspired once again in her work. They were married not soon after. And so, I had a new step-father in Custo.

He was nice, so I could see why my mama liked him so. But something always bothered me: that my mama had given up on my father too easily. I remember when I was nine, and Custo was showing me a book he had found, I remember telling him that my father had gotten it for my mama when I turned five. Surprised, he told me that she had buried it deep into a chest in the spare room, under a load of my fathers' old clothes.

With the extra help from Custo, we were able to become a proper family with a stable lifestyle. I sewed with my mother, and Custo brought back his share of reales from the Spanish. My mama forgot about my father in due time like the sands of the tides being washed away by a summer storm. I guess she assumed him dead. The logical choice.

But if she was sand, then I was a rock.

Because I never forgot. Not once.

And it all began once again with a knock at the door.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"I'm coming!"

It was a hot summer day. Or perhaps it was fall now? One thing was for sure, you could never tell by the weather in Havana.

I was alone today. My mama was out in the taverns, and Custo was making his daily rounds with his patrol.

I was inside today because the searing heat made it impossible to work outside. Speaking of which, I was finishing up a small piece of clothing, a skirt to be exact, for the wife of a rather old noblemen living on the edge of town. I was present when the man made the request, and I personally thought that someone that old should not be wearing a skirt such as that. The thought made me smile as I stepped into the front room and pulled back the curtain.

Standing in front of me was a man maybe twice my age. He was holding a piece of parchment and glancing over his shoulder not at the patrolling guards, but up towards the blue skies. I gave him a questioning look which must have come off as annoyance, because he gave a start and looked down, "Are you Dalia, miss?"

Dalia was my mama's name. I cocked my head in confusion as he looked down once more, "Or are you Nereida, perhaps?"

"I am," I confirmed, flashing a comforting and sympathetic smile. The man seemed extremely relieved as he handed the parchment over to me. I couldn't say another word before he took off down the sandy street, heading for the parts of Havana where the noblemen lived. As I pulled back into my home, I could hear the clanging of metal racing off in the same direction. When I poked my head back outside, I saw nothing.

I shook my head and smiled to myself, flipping the paper open and examining its contents. To my surprise, the only thing printed on the parchment was this:

_Dalia or Nereida Ortiz,_

_There is much to share. Come now._

_Four hundred twenty six north, Eight hundred fifty six east._

_-Vasco_

Vasco? I did not know a Vasco. I stared at the numbers, trying to make sense of them. So many questions ran through my head as I sat down on the spindly chair by the door.

This letter was most certainly addressed to either me or my mama, but not to Custo? And how would this Vasco know our names? And how was I even supposed to find him with only numbers to guide me?

I sighed and went back to my project, pocketing the letter in my skirt as I went. Perhaps I could ask my mama when I'm done.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

The tavern my mama normally went to was the same one she had rendezvous with my father. Perhaps it was not the closest to our home, but in her opinion, the rum they served was top quality. I've had a few drinks here and there, but my mother was the one with the taste for gin.

I found her close to the door like she normally was. This time, it was a few sailors that were sitting up at her table, waiting for her to lose herself enough to go home with one of them. But my mother was smarter than the average sailor, and she always had just enough to keep her senses.

Like most women from Spain that lived in Havana, my mama had skin so tan it looked almost slave-like. Her long black hair was usually tied with ribbons and she wore colorful clothes of her own creation. Many of these physical traits were inherited by me, but our personalities differed greatly. I had reservations and patience: my mama had rambunctiousness and carelessness. My mama seemed to prefer something to show off her bosom, whereas I enjoyed something with a little more coverage. Adding to the collection, my mama also wore a big necklace that attracted much of the attention to said open chest.

"Mama," I announced my arrival quietly and politely, gently pushing through the sailors in order to reach my mother, "It's time to go home. I need you to look at the skirt and make sure it's alright for the Valdez's'."

"_Si, si," _my mother nodded, standing up and greeting me with a small embrace. She then turned around and waved back to her new friends, who looked positively upset that she was leaving, "Goodbye boys! Come around tomorrow and maybe I'll still be around if I think you're worth it."

I bit my lip. When my mother had a bit to drink, she often lost control of her mouth. I could feel the anger emanating from the sailors and tried to swallow the panic in my chest as I turned to leave, leading my mama by the hand like she was the small child and I was the mother.

A hand flashed out of the corner of my eye, reaching for my skirt. I tried to pull away but the speed of the hand was too fast for me. The fingers of a particular brutish sailor explored the pocket on my side until he finally pulled out the letter from Vasco. I made a grab for it and missed, my mama staring in confusion as the sailor opened the letter and read it aloud to his friends.

"Four hundred and twenty six north, and eight hundred and fifty six east," the brute repeated to his friends, "It looks like the lass has sailing coordinates!"

I could hear the laughter from the other sailors but it sounded distant. _Sailing coordinates?_

To my undying relief, one of the dancers in the tavern rounded the corner and plucked the letter from his grasp. She scanned it quickly and gave it back to me, motioning me with her hand to leave. I didn't miss a heartbeat, grabbing my mama once again and exiting the scene as the dancer started to scold the men.

We made it back to the house alright, and I helped guide my mama to the chair in the corner to rest her legs. She hadn't said a word since the commotion with the sailors, but I could tell she had questions. My suspicions were confirmed almost immediately.

"Nereida, what were those men talking about?"

The letter from Vasco was still clutched in my left hand. I knew that I couldn't keep this from her, so I handed the letter to her. My mama scanned it quickly before handing it back to me. I expected her to ask plenty of questions but she only asked two, "Who is this _señor _Vasco? And how does he know us?"

I shrugged and looked down. My mother shook her head.

"Well," I began hesitantly, "perhaps he knows father?"

My mama's eyes grew wide as she pondered this, then grew dull once more. She slowly got up and walked into the other room. I trailed after her like a lost kitten. As she examined my handy-work, she closed her eyes and shook her head, "No, Nereida. I will not allow it."

"Allow what?"

"Allow you to leave home. Your place is here."

My heart sank faster than an English gunboat, "But mama! Think about it!" I placed my hands on her shoulders and spun her around so that she faced me, "What if father is alive!? We can be a family again!"

At the mention of family, my mama's eyes drifted downward again. At that moment, I understood her hesitation, because she thought that she had a family with Custo. And it's true, we did. Custo was a great step-father and husband. I owed much to him.

But I owed a lot to my father as well.

"Mama," I repeated calmly, making sure she opened her large brown eyes and looked at me, "I understand why you wouldn't want to go, but I must. Custo is a fine man, one with honor and dignity, but father does not know of him. He is expecting someone. And that someone must be me, if you are not coming."

My mama's gaze locked with mine, "But how will you get there?"

"There are bound to be sailors in the harbor heading where I need to go. I'll buy passage."

"And what of the English. They will attack you if you get too close."

"I'll be fine. It will only be for a few months, I promise."

My mama chocked back a sob, pulling out a red handkerchief from her skirt and dabbing at her eyes. The tears started to flow from her eyes as she did so, "That's what your father told me when he left for Florida, Nereida."

I felt my face fall. My mama's tears grew steadier and steadier until she was forced to sit down and compose herself. I sat next to her and let the worst of her sadness pass.

"Mama," I whispered between her shuddering hiccups, "I'll be fine. Truly. Don't worry about me."

After what seemed like an hour, my mama finally picked herself up off the ground and walked towards her room. Curious, I followed her. Inside, I saw her piling some of the reales that she kept wrapped in a blanket for emergencies into her red handkerchief and tying it. She turned around and handed it to me.

"This was the amount of reales that it took your father to sail from Florida to Havana, and a little extra," she informed me, placing the bundle in my palm and closing my fingers around it, "Use it well, young one."

After a few hours, when Custo came home, my journey was prepared. My mama gave me a small shawl to wear when the nights grew colder. Custo gave me a well-made dirk in case I needed to protect myself. As the sun set over Havana and night's cool breeze swept through the streets, I met my parents at the door.

I gave Custo a hug first, "Take care, _hijita,_" he whispered as I buried my face into his chest. I could feel his fingers run through my hair. Custo has been good to me, and I'll always be grateful for saving my mama when I could not.

I clutched the back of his yellow officer's jacket, "Take care of Mama for me, please."

And finally, I turned to my mama. She looked like she was trying hard not to cry as I embraced her once more. I squeezed her tightly, "I love you Mama."

"I love you too," she whispered back, smoothing the dark hair down as she said goodbye.

I pulled away, stepping out into the streets. I could see the sadness in their eyes as I turned around and raced down the streets towards the docks.

About halfway to my destination, I pulled out the dirk Custo had given to me. I unsheathed it and stared at it, feeling the debate rise in my chest on whether or not I should keep it. Closing my eyes, I tossed it into the bushes, sheath and all. Hopefully, I will not need it.

At the harbor, sailors of all shapes and girths roamed around. Some had a drink. Some carried boxes. Some were just talking. The ships were equally amazing; all different designs and names and sizes. I was mesmerized by the order and activity that was here, and I spent a good portion of my time just looking around and taking in the scene.

When I decided to finally find a ship to suit my needs, I found that it became I lot harder than I anticipated. Many merchants were not sailing in the direction I was hoping for. They would pull out their maps, scan them for the coordinates, and confirm that their destination was elsewhere, and I would leave with a heavy heart. At long last, towards the end of the docks, I found someone willing to take me.

I approached with weariness to a sailor at the base of a large brig. The words _Isla Del Tesoro _were emblazoned with gold on the sides. Past the man I was heading for were his partners, boarding the ship as they carried various crates filled with rum, cloth, and spices.

"Excuse me," I began tiredly, holding out Vasco's letter to the man, "Are you sailing for this location?"

The man studied the coordinates, eventually pulling out his map and studying it to find the position it showed. After an eternity of searching, he held the map out to me, "Your location is somewhere around here," he pointed to a point on the Florida on the map, "And we are heading to this port," he shifted his finger a little downwards, but just barely, towards the coast, "If you are alright with walking a bit, then yes, we are heading here."

I broke into a smile that must have taken the sailor by surprise. I reached out and took Vasco's letter back, "Then I will travel with you! Wait, hold on," I took out the red pouch of reales, fished a few coins out, and tossed the rest to the sailor. If he was taken aback originally, then he must have been shocked to see a girl not only declaring her passage, but carrying so much money to do so, "I can pay for myself," I announced politely.

The man didn't say anything at first, and I was then afraid he was going to turn me down. But, he eventually waved his hand in allowance to climb aboard the ship, still staring at the gold I had given him. I nodded my thanks and stepped off the dock and onto the brig.

I waited a few hours as the sailors brought more cargo down into the ship. Some ignored me entirely, but most gave me curious looks that made me feel slightly self-conscious. I ended up looking down at my skirt and making attempts to look more reasonable.

After all the cargo was loaded and the men were all aboard, the captain, the same man I gave my gold too, shouted to the men to loosen the sails and depart from the docks. A sweet wind greeted me as the brig slowly began to move out into the open sea. Then, we moved faster, and faster still, until we raced with the seagulls towards the ocean. I felt a smile grow on my face as I turned to face the unknown.

_I'm coming, Vasco._

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**Unfortunately****, I won't be working on this fanfic much until I finish "There Isn't A Flag I Haven't Waved". I just wanted to write the first chapter out and see what people thought of it.**

**You may see a chapter here and there, but until I finish the game and the fic, I won't be working on this one. **

**Thank you for reading and please follow, favorite, or comment!**


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